The Jack Chronicles: FALLEN

By Darren Thompson

Truth is sometimes meant to be forgotten.
A careless whisper eventually breaks the silence.
Memories are raised of ancient forces drawn forth from beyond dark myths to lurk in the earth realm, pulling strings, and manipulating monotonous humans as they fall into complacency.
Then chaos crept into the veins of society like a slithering parasite, feeding first on the most vulnerable. Others, neurotic and self-serving, leap blindly into the seductive embrace of a dark power masked in the constructs of human reality. They rejoiced in her deceitful promise of glorious salvation. But her nature was something misunderstood, and she preyed on their ignorance rising once again to reveal her truth.
‘I recall the instant she sent her dark seed to burrow. Sustained by curiosity and desire, her probes rooted, grew, and flourished, tainting my perception, and my being. Her alluring presence awoke beckoned, tempted, then captivated me. I was overcome by an imperative need to behold the force behind those mesmerizing eyes probing the depths. I willingly surrendered to her seduction, and she swallowed me whole, leaving behind a withering regret over my abandoned oath.’
‘Suddenly, the utopian world that had sustained me for eons could no longer trust me, and I was expelled. The inner Garden faded and everything familiar fell away with it. I was drawn through forged dimensions and thrust upward past molten blades of rock, breaking the surface, and tearing it asunder. I rose from the ashes reborn just as a troubled man cast himself over the edge of reason and succumbed to his addictions. But his time was not then and as I was born into this place, he returned, our souls bound by this bodily prison. Ancient lineages surge through my veins intertwined with the mortal’s blood, merging my essence with earthly elements. The transformation into raw flesh was unlike anything I had ever experienced or imagined; I physically moved for the first time, burdened by the gravity of this new reality. I will never forget the foreboding first breath: a wretched alleyway of nauseous smells; we vomited.’
‘I immediately rued my decision as I quickly became lost in a labyrinth consciousness; trapped in an unstable mind oppressed by addiction and flawed conditioning, rendering me powerless. Many of my memories began to fracture into fleeting images, like dreams from long ago. I am undone... by transforming my celestial body, I have broken my oath, not only to the Universe and others but to you as well. The consequences of my acts may wreak untold havoc on the cosmic balance of our worlds set adrift, where finally the bond that has held these systems might break, cast to oblivion.’
‘I am stricken, my love! Our sworn duty is to maintain the harmonious flow through the dimensions bestowed honor and purpose unto our kind. I have been forever changed, and as such, I am unaware if I could even survive in our realm. Yet I must find my way back to make amends. I beg forgiveness. You are my eternal beloved, my only hope to defend our worlds and preserve the balance. Protect Gaya and await me. I pray my thoughts to reach you. Prepare for a dark wave coming.’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darren Thompson
• Release date: Oct 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798357663207

Darren Thompson

An old friend, Dr. Nauer, always refers to Thompson as ‘Dr. Thompson’. It is not known if either is an actual doctor, but Dr. Thompson has been giving practice to the arrangement of words for a lifetime. He lives near the mountains along a river and hums while muddling around his garden. He writes daily and sometimes it’s good. That about sums things up. He writes, gardens, and has lived life in love with his family and friends for the past forever. A black cat named Siggy-Simone likes to ride his shoulder and has been integral to the process.In other worlds, he has ridden big waves on the back of a fishing boat in the Bering Sea, attended a random wedding at a pyramid in the middle of a jungle, and skied some of the finest powder in the world. These days he works in Space supporting an interesting program where he spends time thinking about explorations into the outer limits and writing.

Book preview

FALLEN

Written by Darren Thompson

Edited by Charles DeBerry

The Jack Chronicles • Book One • FALLEN

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious products of the author’s imagination brought on by an ancient muse with too many days of Covid. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, living or dead, gods, idols, immortals, or other entities is a supernatural coincidence or streamed from some other dimension.

Copyright © 2022 Thompson • All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review.

[e-mail] • http://jackthought.com

Trade Paperback ISBN: 9798357663207

Hardcopy ISBN: 9798357724311

The character of Moon Girl is available for use by anyone, with only one condition: This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Moon Girl, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.

Expanded Art License:

Cover Art: VAlex/Shutterstock.com

Back Cover Art: fran_kie/Shutterstock.com

The Jack Chronicles began as a short story back in the early eighties called, Aftermath and the adventures of a post-apocalyptic superhero running energy through an underground network to circumvent the dark overseers that dominate the human cities and control all matters of trade. Cities are quickly cloaked within biodome technologies designed originally for off-planet applications to guard against nuclear weather following the great war of tribulation when the Mother of Chaos unleashed her dark army.

Fallen is the first book of The Jack Chronicles and written as a retrospective into the origins of Jack and the events leading up to Aftermath. The book inadvertently examines many social constructs and relationships that are challenged everyday as humans grapple with a fracturing world.

There was a time when everything felt normal one day and the next was like waking in another dimension. The characters are set within a world that spans the cosmos of science fiction and fantasy. The life of this story is bled from stone, comprised of many years of writing and rewriting. While dark subjects are afoot, there are quirks I found endearing that brings levity in lightness.

It is my hope that Fallen is widely enjoyed.

Thank you, DThompson

Contents

Prologue

The Interview

White Room

Nurse Ruby

Yellow Trim

Black Hall

Reality Crash

Promiscuous

Intoxicated

Into the Night

Guardians

Tainted Love

Full Circle

Looking Glass

Visiting Hour

Roadside Attraction

Dragonfly

She That Survives

God Space

Dark Tide

Master’s Truth

Midnight Express

Rawhide

Hunters

Voice of Trel

Convergence

Garden of Time

Epilogue

About the Author

To my family whose encouragement gave me time to dream. For my cousin, Charles DeBerry, whose impeccable sense of language helped bring this book to life. And all others who seek beyond, may the light of your imaginative spirit never fade.

Prologue

Truth is sometimes meant to be forgotten.

A careless whisper eventually breaks the silence.

Memories are raised of ancient forces drawn forth from beyond dark myths to lurk in the earth realm, pulling strings, and manipulating monotonous humans as they fall into complacency.

Then chaos crept into the veins of society like a slithering parasite, feeding first on the most vulnerable. Others, neurotic and self-serving, leap blindly into the seductive embrace of a dark power masked in the constructs of human reality. They rejoiced in her deceitful promise of glorious salvation. But her nature was something misunderstood, and she preyed on their ignorance rising once again to reveal her truth.

‘I recall the instant she sent her dark seed to burrow. Sustained by curiosity and desire, her probes rooted, grew, and flourished, tainting my perception, and my being. Her alluring presence awoke beckoned, tempted, then captivated me. I was overcome by an imperative need to behold the force behind those mesmerizing eyes probing the depths. I willingly surrendered to her seduction, and she swallowed me whole, leaving behind a withering regret over my abandoned oath.’

‘Suddenly, the utopian world that had sustained me for eons could no longer trust me, and I was expelled. The inner Garden faded and everything familiar fell away with it. I was drawn through forged dimensions and thrust upward past molten blades of rock, breaking the surface, and tearing it asunder. I rose from the ashes reborn just as a troubled man cast himself over the edge of reason and succumbed to his addictions. But his time was not then and as I was born into this place, he returned, our souls bound by this bodily prison. Ancient lineages surge through my veins intertwined with the mortal’s blood, merging my essence with earthly elements. The transformation into raw flesh was unlike anything I had ever experienced or imagined; I physically moved for the first time, burdened by the gravity of this new reality. I will never forget the foreboding first breath: a wretched alleyway of nauseous smells; we vomited.’

‘I immediately rued my decision as I quickly became lost in a labyrinth consciousness; trapped in an unstable mind oppressed by addiction and flawed conditioning, rendering me powerless. Many of my memories began to fracture into fleeting images, like dreams from long ago. I am undone… by transforming my celestial body, I have broken my oath, not only to the Universe and others but to you as well. The consequences of my acts may wreak untold havoc on the cosmic balance of our worlds set adrift, where finally the bond that has held these systems might break, cast to oblivion.’

‘I am stricken, my love! Our sworn duty is to maintain the harmonious flow through the dimensions bestowed honor and purpose unto our kind. I have been forever changed, and as such, I am unaware if I could even survive in our realm. Yet I must find my way back to make amends. I beg forgiveness. You are my eternal beloved, my only hope to defend our worlds and preserve the balance. Protect Gaya and await me. I pray my thoughts to reach you. Prepare for a dark wave coming.’

Chapter 1

The Interview

How are you feeling? Do you remember anything? An angular hand slides a glass of water across a small wooden table. Here, in case you’re thirsty.

Jack reaches out grasping at the glass; he focuses, grabs it, takes a long drink, and closes his eyes. He clumsily sets the glass down on the edge and miraculously catches it as it falls. It would be better placed closer to the center but his head spins with vertigo and the light is blinding. The outline of a figure is barely distinguishable, and Jack squirms from left to right against the hard white plastic chair, desperately looking for a comfortable position; the sound of hard plastic bending and scraping against the concrete floor adds to his nausea. He finally crosses his legs and leans to the right to reflect. Why do I have to put up with this crap again? Another day of this whack job tryin’ to conjure up alternate personalities that don’t exist, just to validate his stupid theoretical mumbo jumbo. Jack frowns, furrowing his brow. Having multiple personalities vying for control is not the issue. Jack knows there is only one Jack, he is certain of it. I wouldn’t even be aware of another personality if there was one, isn’t that how it works? Then again, how could he explain the voices in his head or those memories from some other realm warning the return of some prophetic dark evil?

So, you simply left? Where did you say, an inner world, was it? I believe you described it as the planet being hollow with gardens in… in something like middle earth. Hmmm, sounds a bit like Tolkien, to me. Dr. Worskovey peers up from his continuous note-scribbling. What do you think it all means? The doctor is hidden on the dark side of the light, waiting for an answer too long in coming. Jack imagines what the doctor must look like: clear blue eyes study Jack through thick-rimmed black glasses perched on a wrinkled-up analytical nose; tufted gray hairs climb out from over the arch of his ears and a couple of wild brows are sprouted with anticipation; pens stick out from his white lab coat pocket; mouth slightly open waiting for Jack’s answer.

After a prolonged silence, the doctor states, I can tell you what I think…Would you like to hear what I think? He is direct whereas Jack feels aloof, with exasperated nerves that dominate him. No, I-I really don’t! I don’t know what I’m doin’ here sayin’ the same things over and over. Look, I went through absolute hell before gettin’ here, and this? This isn’t any better! In fact, I think it’s worse! A loud forced sigh emphasizes his obvious frustration.

Could you start from the beginning?

Really? How many damn times do I have to tell you this? The doctor’s silence answers for him. He regains some control. Ok fine. Let’s see…I was thrown onto the surface from a…like a sanctuary..., or ah..., more like an inner garden, you know. Look doc, I really don’t understand what’s goin’ on...my head’s gonna explode.

You have quite an intriguing story Jack, which I feel you require more time to process. You have certainly been through quite a significant episode. The doctor dims the blinding light and jots down yet more notes. Jack can make out some minor details: the shape of his posture, and the contour of his pen on the notebook when he put his fist to his mouth to catch a cough.

Jack continues, I don´t know where I was, or what any of this means! Then I… I can hear what people are thinkin’ all around me…invadin’ my mind, my thoughts. It’s crazy! Frickin’ crazy! Jack looks around frantically as his leg starts shaking uncontrollably and he lets out a faint moan.

Relax Jack. Breathe in slowly… There you go. Let it out…Relax…One more time…Are you able to hear my thoughts right now? Jack perceives Dr. Worskovey leaning forward in his chair with anticipation.

Nooo! It’s not like that! It’s mostly when I’m outside, but not always. Sometimes, I can hear people everywhere. It’s overwhelming! Tears well up in his eyes, and his head drops into his hands, Oh my God. He groans softly.

Hmm…alright. Well, take another deep breath…relax… At present, I am more interested in what you remember of your experience from this inner world. Do you recall where it was you emerged from while in this…state?

Jack lifts his head tears welling up in his eyes, What?!? What difference does that make? This is my reality right here, right now. How should I know what that dream meant? You’re the one with the degree! You should be tellin’ me! C’mon, they don’t mean anything! Light suddenly floods a dark corner at the other end of what seems to be a long room lending a sudden sense of space to this interrogation.

Please, Jack, what do you remember?

How many times...? LOOK at your notes! …countless seconds of silence pass, Ok. Fine... Just give me a minute.

Take your time, I will be right back. The doctor’s silhouette is mystic as it flickers quickly off toward the light. He appears to speak to someone until suddenly, the door slams. From the other side, Jack hears a faint female robotic voice, oops, sorry. The room floods back to black. The spotlight returns intensified. The theatrics of interrogation are harsh, though the doctor insists they’re beneficial. Yeah, maybe for Moth Man! Jack can’t think of what to say. Dr. Worskovey seems to know a lot more about the story than he does. He probably sat there and wrote it all down while I was out cold, recorded it or somethin’. Yeah, that’s it! They frickin’ recorded it. They were probably followin’ me for weeks. Jack remembers signing something about it when he got here or…

How are we doing, Jack? Would you like a bit more time? With the door abruptly shut, complete darkness returns except for the blinding sphere of light exposing Jack to scrutiny for truth. The doctor’s shape drifts into view again, morphing from the dark corner of the room.

My apologies for the interruption, please continue.

So, there was a vast open space..., a cold place. I was lyin’ curled up under a tree that was there, with nothin’ else for as far as the eye could see…it was empty, beautiful yet chaotic, an untamed desolate landscape. Jack’s mind drifts across the barren memory of this other world. Traces of whatever the doctor gave him earlier for his dreams are still affecting him.

After moments of near-silent scribbling Dr. Worskovey looks up, Alright, we can return to that later. Dr. Worskovey tries his best to make Jack feel comfortable. Now then, you mentioned a woman you loved in the other realm. Who were you referring to? Is that person no longer with you? Dr. Worskovey ponders to himself unaware of Jack’s acute cynicism:

He is experiencing the convergence of multiple realities intertwining with one another. Being able to distinguish them would be quite useful. Come on Jack, WHO is your true self? The answer to that complex universal question, as for most humans, remains elusive until death. The doctor, realizing the irony and impossibility of a forthcoming answer, chuckles lightly under his breath. Though there may be a distinct correlation, you are in denial, yet there is a part of you that knows. I must bring forth this other self for only then will the truth be revealed.

Hello? Jack loses his patience and hits the table with his fist. Doc! What are you goin’ on about? You wanna know what I think? Maybe all this isn’t such a good idea.

Please remain calm Jack. I was merely asking about the woman you love. When you were within your dream, you mentioned a beloved. I might have even felt a presence in the room. I made a note of it.

Are you tryin’ t0 gaslight me? I swear to God… Jack’s eyes squint in the faint glow trying to discern the doctor’s expression, This conversation’s goin’ nowhere.

Jack, you’re not being very cooperative. The sound of his voice is making Jack’s ears bleed, but the doctor remains cool and continues, Tell me, who is this love, this other you dreamed of? Where do you remember her from?

What? No! Noo! I have no idea who that woman is; she’s not even real. I can’t figure this out, and you’re not helpin’ me at all!! These dreams…th-they’re more like incomplete memories that aren’t mine, and then this insomnia! It’s gonna be the end of me! I can’t give you any more answers!

I understand. Sometimes, our personal lives, the authentic reality, has a way of projecting in curious ways. I wonder, have you discussed any of this with Mary?

What are you talking about? Wait a minute! H-how do you know Mary? You say that like... like you know her. He looks suspiciously towards the doctor with eyes ablaze.

Well, according to your chart, we have her listed as your emergency contact, and she signed you in earlier.

The room spins and Jack shuts his eyes to stop it. He reopens them. The bright light has been turned off and the overhead lights are half-lit. Dr. Worskovey is fully visible now and seems quite different from Jack’s impression of him. Would you like to answer the question, Jack?

He blurts out, What question? How did you do that with the lights?

I asked about the medication you take for your condition.

No, you didn’t.

Dr. Worskovey glances at his intake sheet. Perhaps you were not listening. Well, anyway, do you think it is working for you? Dr. Worskovey begins tapping on the inner flap of his notebook and it seems to get louder and louder.

I don´t know what’s going on here. I don´t understand anything! What if the doctor is right… what if I am dealing with some severe personality disorders where some ancient spirit has awoken? Sometimes it’s like a nonstop projector feeding him shards of shattered memories he can’t comprehend. His mind rips through scenes from his life interjected with those of some other life, some other world with unknown faces and feelings. Jack starts moving from side to side in his chair becoming increasingly agitated, and disoriented.

We may attempt a different approach. Given the fact you will be with us for a while, would you like to hear wha—

Wh-what do you mean I’m not going anywhere? Panic swells and Jack starts hyperventilating. He knows he is not right. Jack grasps the sides of his chair white-knuckled, slightly rocking, I just wanna go home. I’ve been answering the same questions for days and days.

Actually Jack, you have just arrived, and we are in the middle of your initial interview. I believe your wife made a wonderfully wise decision bringing you here. You are in no condition to leave these facilities. This is a good place to stop for today. We can proceed tomorrow after you have had some much-needed rest. Breakfast is served at 7 AM. Ruby is the finest Nursebot we have and will be here to take over for me.

Jack leans back in the cold unfeeling chair beyond confused, and exhausted, his thoughts but a mumble: What, …I just got here? But how’s that even possible? I´ve been here for days… His head drops into his right hand. Please relax and hold still. Then I will show you to your room.

I don’t wanna go to my room. I wanna go home!

As Dr. Worskovey walks away he looks over his shoulder, I understand Jack, the cleansing takes time. Trust me, you will be fine. and then gives instructions as he disappears around an anonymous corner. Ruby, level two, please. She releases Jack’s arm and remains motionless for a nanosecond, resetting to his voice command. Jack’s eyes widen as he begs, Please, don’t hurt me!

Jack, I have already told you that I am incapable of causing you harm. Calm yourself and please relax, you will notice a marked improvement in your migraine. Her hands begin to glow a pale blue and she holds them to Jack’s head infusing him with her calming energy. Jack’s shoulders slump, and after some minutes he opens his eyes. He is much calmer. I really don’t understand anything, but my headache’s gone. I think I’d like to go to my room now.

Follow me please. Ruby is so lifelike except her elegant mannerisms are more than human, a reminder of the separation from AI systems. This is how bots should be used, in medicine, not like so many of those pairing services for domestic partnerships. They flood apps with ads, making it virtually impossible to find an actual human these days. Ruby leads him through the double doors at the other end. He trails behind staring blankly at the endless hallway of identical, unnumbered rooms that look more like prison cells.

You are here. Ruby sweeps her open palm toward his room with a slight bow. Jack already knew which room was his, and he simply stares off and focuses in on a communal space set off in an alcove further down on the left with a white table and a circle of matching colorless chairs facing outward.

Chapter 2

White Room

The room reeks of sterile. Jack sits quietly on the small bed. A table, chair and space-saving corner toilet are the only other occupants. He immediately notices an intercom on the wall and then vents in the ceiling. He half-expects to hear the door lock from the outside as Ruby leaves. There is no sound. He checks the door and sure enough, its locked. He sits on the edge of the bed, light-headed. This was hardly the accommodation he thought he’d get. He wonders why there are three vents in the ceiling for such a small space. They could do anything they wanted to him in here. How much is this bogus treatment gonna cost me? He had to get out of here, however he could! Addiction is subjective, and he hadn’t lost control that many times, had he? Deep in thought about the trance this charlatan put him under, Jack doesn’t notice the steel bar pressing hard into the back of his thighs until his legs go numb. He becomes restless and stands only to fall back on the bed writhing from the pins and needles that stab him. He rubs his calves to life. This was his third day of being admitted for evaluation, even though the doctor insisted it was his first. Nothing about his life makes any sense. Could it all be just an illusion? He came only because Mary had given him an ultimatum: Get help or get out! For the next few hours, Jack shuffles through muddled memories trying to make sense of all the craziness and the fateful night he fell off the wagon.

Fits of drunken tirades and delusions of grandeur were unbearable for Mary, an ambitious woman driven by her own success, her own ego. The lack of follow through drove her insane with frustration. Jack’s deflated, inadequate life had drowned in a spiral of booze and mental illness.

It was on one of his habitual walks down among the night crawlers of Seed City when he stumbled headfirst into his own self-loathing: a place festering from within, arguing with self-doubt and endless circles of indecision. Jack is spinning out of control, tied tight to a philosophical wheel of his own demise, suffering from trying to gain insight into the meaning of his life.

I’m better off alone.

...She hates me.

I love her and need to get home.

...She hates me. I don’t care.

She is weak without me.

...This is not my life.

I can’t live without her.

He wonders at what others must think as he fumbles with the need to feed his addiction. Up ahead, just across Revolution Boulevard and neon signs, an old man lies on sheets of cardboard in a dark cutout of a boarded-up storefront. Across the way, a young couple trips on the edge of a circle of light cast down from an overhead streetlamp and disappear into the night giggling. Shadows climb the brick walls leading into the alley, avoiding the flickering streetlights, ascending into the heavens of corporate architecture. He imagines a lone tumbleweed rolling up a warm midnight walkway with wooden rails and dirt. Seed City is a crossroad in time.

What is his purpose if not to please his wife? How can he possibly connect when all his efforts are met with scorn? Empty, carved out from his insides, he scrapes at the walls of his soul, hollowing himself out. He could easily leave her to drift off but then thinks he loves her. She just doesn’t see it or worse, doesn’t care. It eats at him constantly, and he struggles to reconcile her indifference. But then, could it actually be him who couldn’t see past his own needs?

He approaches a man on the corner, known as ‘Billy Baggs’, and passes through a seamless transaction and enters full stride into an underworld full of protesters, homeless drug addicts and failed accountants. He studies the clear baggy that had just materialized into the palm of his hand, turning it over to measure its contents. A small blue sticker markets the word CLARITY.

He is the epitome of a failed human, born into a society cracking under the weight of its foundation-consuming greed. Hmm…so ironic. The needle still piercing where nerves no longer feel. Too many bruises have brought him to heel. The same question cycles through his thoughts, over and over: how did he get here? Everywhere, shadows slink just out of sight, but he can hear the dark whispers hiss in his head, coaxing him to awaken. But to what? How can people not see the cracks opening beneath their feet? Not see the conspiracies sowing chaos into public perception. Everyone was losing the nature of their true calling. Humans want more and more and more, snagged in a lust for power, they turn a blind eye to the chaos coming to upend everything. Jack just wants to get back to HIS normal and get high until he’s invisible again.

An abandoned side street leads away from the shuttered storefronts and the few lingering street people waiting for last call to bum a smoke. CLARITY. His mind is trapped in a loop dragging him down this road yet again. Mary will be doing a crossword puzzle and watching her evening shows. A couple of drinks will serve as a periscope into a better life. Maybe they aren’t that different after all, yet Mary had him locked up behind this door.

Wrestling with the iron grips of addiction, he somehow relishes in the uncertainty of his dysfunction like chance dice tumbling across the green. Slowly, chaos devours the human spirit, and he sees it for what it is, embraces it; people are losing their minds. Something stirs in the air that feels off. His mind teeters on the very edge, pushed and pulled between the light of his true being and the growing dark essence resounding off the walls locked up with him.

Footsteps pass outside the door and Jack freezes. After seconds…silence. He starts pacing, counting the steps: 1, 2, 3, 4... The room is about 12 x 8. An icy chill runs up his spine, his heart starts pounding faster and faster as he sweats profusely. The shakes are not too far off now. He sits to reflect on the other day before CLARITY set in; tries to gather himself despite the bugs. Suddenly, Jack is standing in front of Saviors, a fancy high-tech store over on Powell, watching their mega-media screen.

[BREAKING NEWS]

The Northern Empire has declared martial law in seven sectors and all borders have been locked down. Heavy military units have seized the cities and rounded people up under a declaration of civil cleansing. Human rights activists demand international intervention. Meanwhile, religious leaders worldwide are calling the actions prophetic and claim it is only a matter of time before it forces the remaining West to submit. Religious fanatics have offered themselves to be sacrificed from the pains of humanity like lemmings, praying to their gods in the night sky to save them first through rapture...

Jack sips from his day flask, mesmerized by the footage. Others gather like specters to witness the reality of what they had been warned about...

He is zapped back to his white room in a flash that throws him off-balance stumbling into another dizzy spell. He flops onto the stiff bed and carefully lays his head on the flat folded pillow. Recollections of similar events in other major cities circle his mind as he tries to focus; all passed off as rumors or fake news is what he heard.

Right there, THAT’S when it all started; THAT was the first drink that day. A few shots later he was shooting stick over at the Pelican, his usual haunt. Was that before or after CLARITY? He flashes back to the side street off Revolution Blvd. He isn’t sure how much he’d had to drink by then, but he fit right in like an anonymous bystander that somehow belonged; never suspected of being anything more than just a drunk. Jack prefers a soiled landscape where he can rummage with fewer pressures. He is a man that walks without a name–a man forsaken.

A silent nebulous hand reaches for him from beyond a hidden door casting an outstretched shadow across the alley of broken glass and brick and latches onto his soul; burn